Nightmares
by raynefrost
Summary: !SEASON 8 SPOILERS! When your home is torn apart and then your siblings are thrown out because of actions you have taken, it's a lot to take in and handle. Especially at such a fragile state.


It takes a week for Castiel to reach Sam and Dean. He knocks on the door and isn't really surprised to see the guarded look on Dean's face when the door finally opens. He can see the surprise on Dean's face, his arm relaxing where he was holding a gun behind the door.

"_Cas_." It's all Dean can say for a moment as he looks Castiel over. He hasn't shaven in a week, but it isn't nearly as bad as when they were in Purgatory. He smells and his coat is dirty. "How'd you get here?"

"I walked. And then I… hitched a ride with a truck driver. And then I walked again," Castiel said, scrubbing a hand over his face. He felt tired and he hated it. "May I come in?" He asked, stepping towards the door, not waiting for Dean to answer. Dean stepped aside and he closed the door once Castiel was inside and hugged him. He could feel the relief in Dean's hug.

"Hey," he said after a quiet minute of taking one another in, "There's a shower down that hall, on the left." Dean raised his arm to point. "Put your clothes outside the door and I'll grab 'em, throw 'em in the wash. I'll put some clean clothes outside the door, 'k?" He raised a brow and he looked at Castiel, who nodded slowly. "Alright, good. Then I'll whip up some food for you."

Castiel watched Dean make his way through a doorway. He had never seen as comfortable in a place as much as he had seen him here. This was his home. Sighing, Castiel turned and headed down the hallway Dean had instructed him to go to and went into the bathroom. He closed the door behind him and stripped himself of clothing. Folding them neatly, he opened the door and placed them down on the floor before he closed the door again. He moved over to the tub and started a bath.

—

The first month there was hardest. Castiel would wake up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, crying and calling out for his brothers and sisters in Enochian. The first week, Dean would come into the room to sooth him and calm him down, promising they would go find the other angels when they had a lead. Sometimes Castiel would fall asleep in the library, stacks of papers around him on the falling angels and where they landed; a few times, he'd wake up to Dean trying to carry him to Castiel's room. Half asleep, it felt like flying, so he never stopped Dean.

When they finally did get a lead, they had to get two different motel rooms due to Castiel's night terrors. Dean stayed with him, just in case. Sam took the other room.

One night, Dean had stayed up after putting Castiel to bed to look over the information they had gathered on their day out. He flipped through the pages when he heard Castiel whimper. His gaze quickly flickered to him and he watched carefully. Castiel shifted from his side onto his back and was muttering something, passing between what he thought was French and Enochian.

Licking his lips, Dean pushed his chair back quietly, bare feet patting lightly across the carpet to get to Castiel's bed. Not for the first time, he climbed onto the bed and he rested beside Castiel, wrapping his arm around his waist and using his other hand to push Castiel's hair off of his forehead.

"Cas," he whispered, still petting his hair, "Cas, wake up." He softly drew his fingertips down the side of Castiel's face as the fallen angel slowly opened his eyes. There were tears in them and he made a move to get out of Dean's hold, moving to his side, as he always did. Dean, however, pulled him closer, pressing his chest against Castiel's back. "Another nightmare?" Castiel nodded and Dean pressed a soft kiss to his slightly exposed shoulder. "It's gonna be okay, Cas. We're gonna figure something out, I promise. We're gonna get your home back."

Castiel raises a hand and he places it over Dean's, giving it a squeeze. He swallows past the lump in his throat and takes a steady breath, nodding. "It's all my fault—"

"—Cas, we've been over this. It's not your fault, okay? Look, let's get some rest. We'll do some more field work tomorrow and we'll get closer to fixing this." Castiel's hold on Dean tightened and he nodded. Releasing Dean's hand, Castiel turned to bury his face in Dean's chest.

"Alright," Castiel said, muffled against the hunter's chest. Dean wrapped his arms around Castiel; one around his waist, the other hand tangling in his hair. They — _he _— would fix this. He would fix his home so his brothers and sisters could return. And the sooner they found his grace, the faster they would be able to do this.


End file.
